Doing Hard Time

Do not read further if you are not of legal age. All the usual disclaimers and copyright laws apply. This story is the second volume of the "Doing Hard Time" saga.

LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS ~ Chapter 19 ~

From the Narrative of Caleb Fisher:

It seemed I shouldn't have worried about Julian getting enough rest; he was up bright and early the next morning, waking me up as he climbed over me.

I growled drowsily and closed my eyes again. My uneasy thoughts the previous night had left me sleep-deprived and therefore not in the best of moods. Hanging off the edge of the narrow bunk bed which wasn't meant for more than a single occupant certainly hadn't helped either.

I was jerked awake again by the sound of bare feet slapping against the concrete floor.

"What the -?" I rolled over to find Julian, still as naked as the day he was born, performing jumping jacks in the space between the two bunks. He was tall enough that his hands almost touched the ceiling. I burst into laughter; he made such a ridiculous sight with his cock and balls flopping around with every jump.

Managing to control my laughter, I asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Exercise," he replied, panting from the exertion. Between jumping jacks, he mischievously added, "You should try it some time."

"If I wanted to be scrawny like you," I retorted. Looping my arm around his waist, I pulled him towards me. A playful struggle ended with him seated on my lap. My morning erection, which had just begun to subside, quickly regained its stiffness as it nestled in the crevice between his buttcheeks.

"If you were planning to impale me on that thing," he commented, "you didn't quite succeed."

"No," I said sternly, catching both his hands in mine as he tried to maneuver into position to be fucked. "I just had my relief less than ten hours ago; I don't need it again so soon."

Julian looked a little put out. "I just don't understand you sometimes."

"Good. I prefer we keep it that way." I ruffled his blond hair, smiling. "Now get some clothes on, unless you want to go down to breakfast in your birthday suit."

Julian grinned but didn't object as he reached for his clothes.

From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:

The next morning found me on the doorstep of Dean's apartment building.

"Dean?" I spoke into the intercom, "It's me, Harrison."

"Oh, right, Harrison. I'll buzz you up." He sounded troubled and I soon found out the reason as I approached his apartment door. The sound of raised voices could be heard from behind it. I was just thinking, maybe this wasn't such a good time and I should leave, when Dean opened the door.

He certainly looked as flustered as he'd sounded on the intercom. Nevertheless he managed a warm smile as he greeted me.

"Hi, Harrison. Come on in. Marc was just leaving anyway."

The guy next to him showed no sign of leaving. I realized this was his ex-boyfriend. He was quite handsome, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. I put his age to be around 23 or 24.

"Did you say his name was Harrison? As in Harrison Ridgeway?" Marc sounded both astonished and angry. He glared at me. "How dare you show your face around here? After what you did!" he shouted suddenly. He tried to swing a punch at me.

I was too stunned to move, but Dean grabbed hold of Marc's arm before the punch landed.

"He didn't do anything!" he yelled at Marc. Turning to me, he added, "I'm sorry, Harrison."

Marc looked puzzled and hurt. "Why are you apologizing to this son of a bitch? I could've lost you forever thanks to him!" I stood by, feeling very uncomfortable.

Dean angrily told Marc, "You don't know anything. Just get out!"

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You're kicking me out and inviting him in?"

"Yes! Now get out!" Dean practically shoved Marc out of the apartment. He quickly pulled me inside and shut the door.

"I'm sorry about that. Well, now you've met my ex. Marc is short for Marcus Fitzgerald. He hates to be called Marcus." A small, humorless grin creased his face.

From the other side of the door, we could both hear Marc begging to be let in. "Come on, Dean! I've told you I'm sorry!"

"Go away!" Dean yelled back. To me he said, "Just come into the kitchen. I was preparing a late breakfast."

I followed him. "What happened exactly? Between you and Marc?" I asked. "You didn't really say last night. That reminds me, I actually came here to apologize."

Dean grinned. "Again? You know, there are plenty of other reasons you could drop by my apartment."

I smiled in spite of myself. He was right; both the times I'd come to his apartment was to deliver an apology. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I put you through last night's mess."

He waved one hand nonchalantly at me as he made his sandwich with the other. "Nah, don't sweat it. I'm used to the failures of the dating process. In all my years of dating, my only success has been with Marc." He seemed to reflect sadly on this.

I repeated my earlier question. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "It was going alright, for a while. We met each other's families. Then we even moved in together. And then one day, I came home early to find him screwing another guy."

I winced.

Dean continued, "He told me he might be in love with this guy, but he just didn't know how to tell me. I didn't want to stand in their way, so I broke it off and let him pursue this other guy. Meanwhile, I was free to start dating again. But you already know what happened next."

"When I woke up from my coma, my parents told me that Marc had come to the hospital every day to check on me. I didn't understand why he'd want to do that. Then he came to see me and begged me to take him back. He'd realized the other guy didn't love him. I told him no. I don't want to have to go through this every time Marc falls in love with someone a lot hunkier than me. He insists that it won't happen again, but you tell me, Harrison - if you were in my place, would you trust him again?"

I had to agree with him on that point. "But last night ... you said you had lingering feelings for him."

"Yeah, well, I guess he was my first - and only - love," he said wistfully. "I want to forgive him and take him back, I really do. But then I think of what he did to hurt me and I just feel so angry. Like when he tried to attack you just now! He always acts without thinking of the consequences."

"I don't think Marc's the only one who's made that mistake. But I don't blame him for trying to punch me. If you remember the last time I came to your apartment, I did tell you to do exactly that."

Dean tried to dismiss my argument. "He didn't have the right to do that. You made a mistake and you apologized for it ..." His voice trailed off as he realized what he'd just said.

I smiled slightly. "From the sound of it, Marc has been doing a lot of that as well."

"There's a huge difference between what you did and what he did!" protested Dean.

"Look, it's none of my business, but he seemed sincere to me when he said he was sorry. I mean, he waited around the hospital when you were in a coma. He must really care about you and probably feels really stupid right now for leaving you in the first place."

Dean sighed. "I know he's sorry. But you know what they say about once bitten, twice shy ... especially with the same guy." He suddenly tossed a question at me. "How did you know that you loved Josh, and that he loved you back?"

"I - just knew, I guess. Once I was sure that I was gay . I suppose that, in a way, I've always loved Josh. Not that it was easy for us either, mind. I acted like a real jerk to him when we were in high school but he was still in love with him. But he forgave me in the end and maybe - just maybe - you should think about doing the same with Marc."

He looked thoughtful.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But I already know you're a forgiving person - I mean, you've had to forgive me twice in the past week-"

Dean grinned in spite of himself. "It wasn't that hard."

I continued, "I'm just saying, if you feel he's the one, then there's no harm in giving it another try."

After a slight pause, Dean replied, "I'll think about it." Then he added, "So, do you always go around trying to solve other people's problems?"

I grinned. "Only when I have nothing better to do, which won't be for long, seeing as I'll be starting work tomorrow."

"Well, you do quite a good job of it." He smiled. "So tell me about your other job? The one you actually get paid for?"

Ten minutes later, I wrapped up my conversation with Dean and wished him the best of luck with Marc. I turned into the stairwell and almost tripped over Marc who was sitting on the landing with his back against the railing.

"Oh ... you're still here," I said, feeling a bit on edge. I wasn't sure if he was going to spring up and hit me like he'd tried to earlier. But the fight seemed to have gone out of him; all he did was look up and say, "It's you," in a tone of disgust.

I should have probably just walked off, but seeing him with such a depressed expression made me feel sorry for him. I slowly sat down beside him on the stairs.

He didn't look at me as he said, "What do you want? He forgave you, didn't he? You put him in a coma and he's all friendly with you. I've been apologizing every fucking day since he came out of his coma and he still hasn't forgiven me."

I didn't point out my innocence in that matter, because I still felt a sense of guilt for what had happened to Dean. Instead I said softly, "You cheated on him with another guy, and then you left him."

"He told you that, huh? Yeah, so I fucked up. But I didn't mean to hurt him."

"But you did."

"Yes, I know ..." He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "But I do love him," he said, more to himself than me. "When I found out that he was in a coma, I knew ... I just couldn't live without him. That everything else had been a mistake. But now it's too late."

Then he seemed to realize who he was talking to. "Why the hell am I telling you all this anyway?"

"Look, I know you view me as the enemy here, but I'm not. I never meant to hurt Dean either. But I don't blame you for trying to punch me just now. I think what I did was far more terrible than what you did. The only reason Dean has forgiven me but not you is simple - he loves you."

"Loved, you mean. Not anymore."

"No, he told me that he still loves you. But he's afraid of getting hurt again."

"But I'll never do anything to hurt him again. I swear!" he cried. I awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Good. Now all you need to do is make him believe that, and everything will be fine."

He looked at me with tear-filled eyes. "You really think so?"

"I don't think; I know. He's still definitely in love with you. All he wants is some reassurance."

Marc gave me a puzzled look. "Why are you helping me?"

I shrugged. "Because we all make mistakes. I've made more than my own share. Yours was letting a great guy like Dean slip out of your grasp. But he isn't completely lost to you. The important thing about making mistakes is regretting them later and trying to make amends."

Marc was quiet. Then he said, "When I first saw you, I was angry. But now ..."

I got up. "You don't have to say anything further. Just go out there and get him back."

I started to go downstairs, leaving Marc still sitting on the landing. I had almost reached the ground floor when I heard him call out softly, "Thank you."

I smiled to myself, because that one short phrase made it all worthwhile.

From the Narrative of Caleb Fisher:

To be honest, I was wondering how long I could put off having sex - full-on, penetrative sex - with Julian. It wasn't so much that I worried about his ability to handle it; indeed, if anything, he seemed more than adequately prepared to handle it.

No, what I was worried about was whether I could handle it. Let me put this simply: I'd lived the past 44 years of my life as a red-blooded heterosexual. I'd had my fair share of girlfriends, even married two of them. In prison, I'd managed to stay aloof of the trend of acquiring `bitches' for sexual satisfaction. Until, that is, the day I'd meet Harrison Ridgeway. He'd certainly changed my perspective. Of course, throughout his stay in my cell I'd been dogged by a lingering guilt. Harry was, after all, my nephew's one true love. Which was why I had abstained from doing anything more with him than an occasional blowjob.

Julian, though, was a different case altogether. Not only was he unconnected to Joshua, he was clearly experienced in the joys of gay sex and would be a very willing participant in it. But I did wonder how much of his apparent enthusiasm was real - was he merely servicing me with the intention of obtaining protection from other inmates like Mitch? In having sex with him, would I be in fact using him?

However, the decision was to be taken out of my hands that night. After an uneventful day - Julian's body had been given several longing glances by inmates in the showers, but no one had so much as laid a finger on him with me in the nearby vicinity - it was finally time to turn in for the night.

Julian surprised no one by stripping naked like he had the night before; once again I found myself hard at the sight of naked virile youth. I cursed my lack of control, which amused Julian to no end. He gave a patented smirk as he knelt between my legs.

I'd been practicing a speech in my head about how it wasn't necessary for him to sexually service me in order for my protection, but it was difficult to deliver it with his lips wrapped around my cock.

"Julian - we need to talk," I managed to get in between gasps. I either hadn't had enough good blowjobs in the past, or the boy was an expert cocksucker. It was probably the latter.

He paused momentarily to look at me. "Okay - once we're done here."

"No, not once - fuck!" He'd just run his tongue under my balls to that very sensitive area around my asshole. The blowjob was quickly turning into a rimjob. I saw the devilish twinkle in his eye and gave up. It was evident he didn't plan on letting me speak until his task was complete.

Having given me a proper rimming, he returned his attention to my cock which, thanks to his ministrations, was sticking out at right angles to my body. I grabbed fistfuls of his fair hair as he swallowed it whole, and skillfully milked another load out of me.

"And now," he proclaimed, "we fuck."

This was where I had to step in. "No, first we need to talk."

"What's the matter?" asked Julian. "Unless you're not up for a second orgasm tonight?" he added slyly.

"Of course not!" I exploded.

We were both startled by a voice from the cell across the corridor. "Yeah, Caleb, give it to him!"

I'd forgotten about Mitch in the opposite cell and his voyeuristic tendencies.

"You can't back out now," whispered Julian.

I was trapped, and we both knew it. "Get on your back," I growled. "I like to see what I'm fucking."

Julian was more than happy to oblige. As we exchanged positions on my bunk, I took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "Tell me if I'm doing it wrong."

His eyebrows shot up, but he nodded his understanding. Lying on the bed beneath me, he spread his legs and raised his hips, giving me better access to his hole. I gazed at the tightly-puckered pink hole, with its circle of fine, blond hairs. Other than that, his milky-white butt was perfectly smooth.

I privately thought there was no way that small a hole could accommodate my cock with substantial pain to him. But with Mitch staring down my back, there was no avenue out. I was glad that my cock was sufficiently wet with Julian's saliva to make entry into his tight hole easier.

"Here goes nothing," I muttered, and pressed my cockhead to the puckered hole. Julian relaxed his sphincter muscles enough to let it in. As gently as I could without making it obvious to Mitch, I eased my eight inches into Julian's incredibly tight orifice. He grunted as the last two inches slipped in, but other than that he made no sound, no sharp cry of pain like I'd expected.

I had planned on giving him time to adjust to my cock, but he had other plans. "Pump it," he murmured.

Aware of the eyes on my back I did just that. I drew out and thrust back into him with long, even strokes. He put aside any concerns that I might've had about causing him pain by pushing his ass forward to meet my thrusts. I had just shot a load barely minutes before, but the amazing sensation of Julian's sphincter tightening around my cock gave me no doubt I would be releasing a second one that night, and soon.

"Give it to him hard!" called Mitch, startling me, for I'd forgotten about my audience in the intense pleasure of the fuck.

"Yeah," agreed Julian softly, "is that all you've got?"

His words had their calculated effect. Pulling out, I rammed back into him with a force that stunned even me, and elicited a yelp from him. I was concerned, until I saw a smile crease the corners of his mouth. "That's much better," he sighed.

Shaking my head at his preference for hard fucks, I resumed my thrusting with the same intensity. Julian slicked his hand with spit, and wrapped his fingers around his own hard cock. He pumped it furiously as I felt the pressure building in my balls.

"I'm going to cum," I warned. "Do you want me to cum inside you or -"

"Pull out," he gasped, "I wanna see you cum this time."

I obeyed and pulled out of him just as I was about to climax. If there's one thing to be said about Julian, it's that he has marvelous timing. The arcs of our individual loads met in mid-air and spattered onto his bare chest. I just sat there on my haunches, staring at our mingled cum pooling on his stomach, at a complete loss for words after one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life.

"Well, that was ... extraordinary, to say the least," I said at last.

"I know," replied Julian, with more than a trace of smugness in his tone. He'd provided such an amazing fucking experience that I decided to let that one slide.

Instead I turned to the watching Mitch. "Hot enough for you?" I asked, turning my gaze briefly towards his crotch.

The brutish inmate actually turned red, aware that the front of his trousers was bulging noticeably. He retreated further into his cell, doubtless to take care of necessary business.

I turned back to Julian, who was licking the remnants of cum off his hand. "So what was it you wanted to talk about earlier?" he asked casually.

I sighed and lay down beside him. "It's too late now. I wanted to make sure you weren't offering to serve me sexually in exchange for protection. Because if that was it, you really don't need to. I don't require sexual favors to keep you safe from the other guys in here."

Julian glanced sideways at me. "It never occurred to you that I might just be attracted to hot, older men?"

I blinked. "No. Are you?"

He laughed. "Not particularly."

I glared at him. "Then what was the point of that statement?"

"I don't have a particular type when it comes to looks or age. From the guard's comments, I guess you do though."

"And pray tell, what type might that be?"

His grin was as wide as a Cheshire cat's. "Young and pretty."

"For your information," I said with as much dignity as I could muster, "you're only the second young and pretty guy to share my cell. Prior to him, I'd never indulged in gay sex. Even with Harry we never get so far as fucking."

Julian's eyes opened impossibly wide. "Wow. Are you saying that, until just now, you were a virgin?"

"What! Of course not -"

"But you just said you never had gay sex."

"Yes, but -"

"That makes you a virgin."

If looks could kill, Julian would have dropped dead.

"Relax, I was just pulling your leg," he said. "So what if most people lose their virginity in their teens and you wait till you're in your forties?"

"I can't help it if I wasn't inclined to take advantage of the helpless young men who come into this prison," I growled and turned away from him.

But I was surprised to feel the touch of his hand on my shoulder. Rolling over to face him again, I saw him smiling at me. Not a self-satisfied smirk, not a cheeky grin, but a genuine, warm smile.

"I was right; you are just my type," he whispered. Then, without warning, he moved in and kissed me.

At the risk of sounding like a giddy schoolgirl I shall confess that my heart beat at a mile a minute.

When our lips parted I managed to stammer, rather hoarsely, "I - I thought you didn't have a type."

"No, I said I didn't have one as far as looks and age went. There are other criteria."

"And what -?"

Julian didn't give me a chance to finish my question before pressing his lips against mine for the second time that night. As he pulled away his eyes gazed deeply into mine and he cupped my chin. "You'll find out as we go along," was his enigmatic reply.

With that, he turned away from me, shifting his body into a more comfortable position on the cramped bunk. "Goodnight," he murmured.

I could just hear the smile in his voice, even if I couldn't see his face. The thing was, I was certain it wasn't one of his arrogant smirks or cheeky grins. No, it sounded like a contented and happy smile. Now what the fuck was he so contented and happy about? Seducing a man old enough to be his father?

He might claim not to get me, but he was the one I couldn't get. I gazed at Julian's back and found myself wondering what unfathomable thoughts were swirling in that golden- haired head.

Oh what the hell, I thought. He wanted to have sex, I wasn't averse to the idea - it made for a perfect coupling. I cringed; had I really thought of it as a coupling? I meant symbiosis, of course. That's what it was. That was all it was.

With that thought firmly entrenched in my mind, I closed my eyes and nodded off to sleep.

But not before a quiet, insidious voice in my head murmured, "Just keep telling yourself that."

To be continued . . .

If you're enjoying this story, do let me know by emailing justinr_88@yahoo.com. I will try to address any questions you have regarding characters and/or plot. Thanks for all the feedback. The next chapter to follow soon.